Took a Clonazepam last night to deal with the shooting pains in my arms. Results of drugging:
1. A certain wooziness for most of the morning.
2. Less pain.
3. Weird dreams that I don’t remember.
I sleep the sleep of the soporifically drugged on this med, which is sort of the point, I guess. Matthew frequently comments that I don’t move very often when I’m in this sleep state, and occasionally I talk.
Now I’ve talked in my sleep since I was little, on and off. It’s been a source of amusement for various people who’ve been in my vicinity when I’ve been asleep and who’ve listened to me babble about my strange, apparently psychedelic dreams. They inform me I even have conversations with them where I give every indication of being wide-awake, with my eyes open and everything. The only difference between holding a conversation with an awake me and a sleep talking me is that my responses are often a bit odd, and I have a tendency of closing my eyes and falling into a dead sleep mid-conversation. I, of course, never remember any of it.
Apparently, last night, I opened my eyes, pointed at something ceiling-ward, giggled and said “oh, my” several times. When Matthew came over and asked me what it was I was giggling at, I said, quite mischievously: “It’s best that you don’t know” and flopped back asleep. He was hoping that I’d be able to enlighten him in the morning what I’d been hallucinating, I mean dreaming. Unfortunately, I can’t remember.
What is my subconscious coming up with when my consciousness is doped goofy?
I’ve given political speeches, screamed in terror, and talked to Anakin Skywalker in my sleep. So says
, who lived with me for six and a half semesters.
I can only remember one thing that caused any of this, and it was a dream I had that I was in the basement of the library and getting something out of the compact shelving. Someone started closing the shelves on me and I screamed because I couldn’t get out in time. My mom came running in my room (this was on one of my breaks) and asked me what was wrong, and I told her, “I dreamed those shelves were closing on me.” So she reminded me of this when I actually woke up and I remembered the dream.
Apparently I’m quite capable of planning out my day while I’m zonked out on Sonata, too.
Sleep can be an eventful time, can’t it? I’ve always found sleep research rather interesting. Doncha wish you could record your dreams sometimes so you could watch them when you woke up?